


If You Don't Succeed

by isamer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, During Canon, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Homework, Honesty, M/M, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Not Beta Read, Past Character Death, Snakes, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isamer/pseuds/isamer
Summary: It's sixth year. Neville is remembering things, which is weird enough. Snape is where he wants to be and Lupin isn't. Harry practices Defense Against the Dark Arts while he waits for reality to set in, but sometimes people learn the wrong lessons.
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This is book canon(except maybe for goblet of fire) so Neville is still short+fat. There's a nice chapter picture of him in deathly hallows that I think about as reference.  
> 2\. Everyone hates Snape as much as they do canonically, but there won't be 100% Snape bashing.  
> 

It started with Snape, unfortunately. With a fifteen year ambition his at last, he flouted his authority in newly antagonizing ways. Harry had not mastered nonverbal casting before the curriculum moved on, but Snape had stopped making an example of him after realizing Harry was ready to knock him over at the drop of a hat. Within two weeks, though, Snape had invented a new ritual by demanding that Neville spar with someone to demonstrate the day's topic.  
"Potter," he called reprovingly, "since your reflexes are so dependably destructive, I am certain you will not be harmed personally."  
Harry stood up without saying anything. He'd spent plenty of time sparing with Neville, but took no joy in being part of whatever public cruelty Snape had planned. He stood opposite Neville at the front of the room.  
"To ensure the odds are fair, Potter will be demonstrating nonverbal casting as he employs his defense."  
Neville's face contorted with fear and Harry grit his teeth to smile reassuringly at him. He started to concentrate on a stream of protego, protego, protego. . .  
"Repeat the curse after me, Longbottom."  
Neville repeated it twice to no effect. On the third cast, Harry's face erupted with something rough and spiked. It was large enough that he could see it growing.  
With a look of horror, Neville jabbed his wand forward and exclaimed _"Finite!"_  
Harry's facial growth faded to normal in an instant. He hadn't realized it had blocked his windpipe until he was breathing again, bent over his knees. Snape glared at them and spoke quickly.  
"Longbottom, what did I ask you to demonstrate?"  
Neville barely managed to look at Snape without flinching. "The horn tongue hex."  
"Did I ask you to use any counter-curse we had not covered?"  
"N-no."  
"Since you are so eager to move the curriculum forward, can you outline for the class the effects and advantages of this incantation?"  
Neville looked like a deer in headlights. "Er," he said very slowly, "it removes. . .some curses. Not. . .everything. . .but more than. . .specific. . .counter-curses."  
Snape curled his lip. "Quite."  
There was cruel laughter. Even Seamus Finnigan laughed nervously, at great betrayal to his house. Snape surveyed the room imperiously.  
"The true incantation is 'Finite Incantatem.'  
"It is not merely a counter curse. It creates the invaluable spell canceling effect. Within a great area, it disables all minor hexes, charms, and even some enchantments. Truly devastating magic is unlikely to be affected, though that will depend on the abilities of the user, as does the precise distance covered. As one can imagine, it does not require targeting, nor knowledge of what affliction or benefit is being provided.  
"What Longbottom demonstrated was a crude portion of the full effect. You will not reach the same potential without finishing the spell. Question?"  
Seamus had raised his hand. "But you can cancel one spell, at least, just by saying half of it?"  
"It is not the intended purpose."  
"But it is faster to say."  
"Yes, Finnigan, it requires two fewer seconds to speak."  
"So if you're in the middle of a duel, it could still be useful?" asked Malfoy without raising his hand. It could only be a sign of real anger, Harry thought, that Snape criticized a response from Malfoy.  
"Any time used to turn one's wand on oneself while facing an imminent opponent," Snape drawled, scowling even as he patrolled the room with leisurely command, "is a missed opportunity to disable one's opponent and an open window for them to disable you. Unless your strategy involves providing assistance to a wizard that is assailing you, I do not advise committing the half incantation to memory."  
The Slytherins around Malfoy snickered and Neville's face burned.  
"How come we didn't learn spell canceling right off the bat if it's so useful?" Ron wondered when they were packing up to leave.  
"Well it is a bit tricky for a start. They don't list it in _Basic Curses and Counter Curses_. Snape said it's ahead of the curriculum because it really is NEWT level," Hermione said.  
"How's Neville casting it then?" Ron paused. "No, y'know what, forget I asked. He's had plenty of opportunity for practice."  
"It's funny, though. I don't think I've read about half the incantation working. . ."  
Harry was certain Neville hadn't been using it last year. Wherever he'd picked it up, he was still rapidly improving, then. Like in the DA. . . But the thought of the DA made the lingering experience of Snape's defense class that much worse.  
He saw Neville ducking out the door and lied quickly. "I wanted to get to the bathroom, could you guys go on ahead?"  
He made it away fast enough to avoid Ron joining him and waited until Neville had gotten into the crowd of students before making an ambush. He greeted Neville loudly and dived in.  
"Nice counter-curse."  
"Oh, yeah," he replied, looking Harry up and down like he expected someone to jump out from behind him. "I guess it'll be more useful after a fight."  
"Where'd you see that one?"  
Neville seemed surprised. "Lupin showed it to me."  
"Lupin?! When?" Neville wasn't supposed to know about the Order, when had he-  
"At the ministry. You forgot?"  
Harry stared at him blankly.  
"You were right there," Neville explained. They were standing still and sharing intense confusion now. Harry wondered if he just had trouble remembering all the distressing situations he got into.  
"Oh. Well." He changed the topic to preserve his sanity. "Y'know, you've hexed me plenty of times for practice. You must be used to it."  
"That doesn't mean I like it," Neville said, abashed. "That one was nasty. When d'you think we're gonna get to the stuff that's too dangerous to demonstrate?"  
"What makes you think he won't make us demonstrate those?"  
"Please don't say that. . . "

Three weeks into the semester, Snape crossed a line. Dispensing with the illusion of fairness, he had allowed several Slytherins to help him "demonstrate" the weaknesses of the shield charm by casting at Neville from multiple sides. The fact that Neville had the ability to remove anything they cast on him was countered by the fact that they didn't give him time to do so, and occasionally silenced him so that he could "practice" silent casting. He had so far not managed it once. If Snape kept his word, he would be continuing this for another three variants on the shield charm that even the DA hadn't covered.  
When Harry tried to talk to him in a free period, Neville knocked him in the shoulder and blew past without speaking. Harry was left in standing alone in shock.  
His mood was fouler than ever by lunch. "This is exactly why Snape should never have got the job. At least when he was doing Potions he wasn't allowed to hex anyone."  
"Don't envy anyone who gets on his bad side now. Should we do something?" Ron suggested.  
"I already asked him and he says he doesn't want help," exclaimed Hermione. "I don't know what's got into him! I said we should go to McGonagall and he looked at me like I had gone mad!"  
Harry understood him a bit. "What exactly would she do?"  
"She'd make him stop."  
"He's allowed to hex us, every Defence teacher we've had was. Snape'll ignore her or get worse," pointed out Ron.  
"It wouldn't be the first time," Harry said darkly.  
"By the end of the year he'll be using the Imperius curse like Moody, right? Because it's part of the 'curriculum.' Nothing we can do about that," Ron said, looking for all the world like he'd eaten something sour.

Harry was out of his mind that he couldn't do anything about Malfoy's obviously nefarious behavior. The least he could do with himself was ruin Snape's life.  
Neville was getting more difficult to catch than he had been first year, and Harry practically had to chase him after finding him outside the Great Hall after dinner. Luckily he had experience in circular arguments lately.  
"Hermione said you blew her off, too," he said, raising his voice in the most commanding way he could.  
"Hermione's in a dozen NEWT classes, she doesn't have time to worry about me," he told Harry with no shortage of annoyance. "Besides, Snape's punished her for helping me, and I don't want anyone to walk in on us practicing. If Malfoy or any of his group see they'll use it as an excuse to say they were helping me practice themselves."  
"I'll get McGonagall to lend us her room," Harry said as quickly as he was walking to keep up with Neville's short legged half-jog, "she did before. I won't tell Hermione or anyone, no one's going to walk in on us and you won't have to have anyone watching you."  
"You've got quidditch." Neville was shrinking into himself as they argued.  
"Not all year, not all the time. C'mon, Ginny and Luna are in their OWL year, I bet they don't have as much free time as I do. I know you're practicing alone, just let me help."  
Neville rounded on him.  
"Are you going to let up?"  
"No, I'm going to chase you around the castle until you say yes," he said matter of factly, careful not to glare when Neville was already worked up. "I might start practice now by hexing you."  
"I can just practice more with Ginny or Seamus then. . ."  
"You can do that too. We can do more and work ahead. That'll really piss Snape off."  
This idea didn't fly the way he'd hoped. "You want to make him worse?"  
"He doesn't have a comeback for everything! Look, I don't think we can make him stop being-himself. But we can take him down a notch together. Wouldn't you like to wipe that smirk off his face?"  
Neville was being very wary of him. "I don't want to be part of you. . .smart mouthing him."  
"But the part where you hex him back?"  
Neville wavered. "Fine."

Harry ended the next day's classes ecstatic. At bare minimum, it would be fun to practice his favorite subject without Snape there to ruin it. At best, Neville would knock Snape across the room with a silently rebounded curse that he couldn't be punished for, and Dumbledore would announce that their professor had been so grievously injured the school would be temporarily reinstating Lupin as a substitute. Snape would only come back at the end of the year, just in time to get fired or killed like every other DADA teacher they'd had. There were no downsides.  
While dreamily considering which curse Snape would be inflicting on himself in this scenario, he entered McGonagall's office. She was immediately amicable to Harry's request.  
"I suppose I should expect Miss Granger and Mr Weasley as well? Hopefully not too many more." Harry expected she was pretty relieved the school was running out of Weasleys.  
"Just me and Neville, actually," Harry clarified. "We thought we'd work ahead. Keeping up with a NEWT level course, you know."  
McGonagall was temporarily speechless. To his horror, she appraised him with a glowing look. "I see. I hope his studies go well."  
Harry shifted uncomfortably. Part of him wanted to say it wasn't what she thought, but explaining that Neville was a fairly average student for the class who was joining in on Harry's rivalries seemed lousy. He wanted to leave the room, fast. "Right, yeah. Thanks again professor." He went for the door making as little eye contact as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

"Y'know, last year I thought he was letting up, but he's right back into it, huh?"  
"Last year he had me to pick on," Harry told Neville.  
"Man, that's right! Someone in the DA said you had to take Remedial Potions!"  
Harry didn't need reminding about "Remedial Potions."  
Pushing desks out of the way, Harry managed to summon an extended cushioning charm mat that would prevent the worst impact if they fell. He'd brought some golf balls(conveniently available in the quidditch supply closet) for targets, and Neville'd had the presence of mind to bring some lighter plastic pots for the same purpose.  
"Look, Harry. . .I need to tell you something." He looked miserable. "My wand's been acting up. It works, but half the time it's way too much, and it does things when I'm not even trying. You don't think I've broken it already?"  
Harry was flabbergasted. "Neville, how could you have broken it when it's still in one piece?"  
"I don't know. Knowing me, I could have done something weird to it. And it's not like I can get a new one, or get it checked out."  
"Neville, that's ins-" he changed his wording at the last second. "that's a bit unlikely, isn't it? A wand that chooses you is supposed to be more effective than someone else's, right?"  
"I know, but no one else is setting their pants on fire by accident."  
Harry declined to inquire further.  
"Okay, look. Let's just test it out. We'll both use the same spell a couple times and see what happens."  
The pots made easier targets, but they were thin and light, and the tiny golf balls seemed easier to repair. After some finagling to set up targets in a way that was least likely to damage school property, they dumped the pots on the desks and just took turns hovering golf balls for each other. They decided the reductor curse had enough berth that target size wouldn't matter.  
As long as his wand kept level, Neville did fine on hovering, and Harry splintered the plastic coating on the balls cleanly. When it was Neville's turn, he was too reluctant to even begin.  
"R-reducto," he stated weakly. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
Neville took a deep breath and stood up straight. _"Reducto!"_  
White dust exploded back into the wall. Some of the grains were clearly sharp, judging by the scratches on the floor. There were at least three different materials in the wreckage and Harry cursed the idea of repairing them.  
"Never mind that- _Scourgify!"_ Harry turned to Neville, who was cowering back. "So was that supposed to be a medium cast?" He nodded as Harry walked the dust to a trash bin.  
"I have a theory," Harry stated, pacing a bit. "You said this is a new wand, Ollivander approved."  
"Uh, yeah."  
"And before, your grandma made you use your dad's wand."  
Neville nodded.  
"When your wand broke and you had to use," he wracked his brain, "uh, wait. Ginny's wand, right? Did that feel different than using your dad's wand?"  
If his memory was wrong, Neville didn't correct him. "No, I couldn't tell much difference. We were sort of rushed. It's just this one that feels all. Enthusiastic."  
"How different does it feel?" Harry asked eagerly.  
"I mean, I wave it to cast and spells just happen."  
Harry's mouth twitched and he resisted the urge to inform Neville that was what wands were supposed to do, but he noticed anyway. "I mean, I know."  
"It's okay, Neville. What I wanted to say is, when you were learning how to cast spells, maybe you learned to force things through? So the wand's fine, you just need to moderate a bit."  
Neville gulped, unconvinced. "I can try that."  
"If you hospitalize Snape first I'll help you every day," Harry said acidly. "You should get started on those advanced shields."  
After glaring at the textbook's index, they found that the chapter on dementors covered some powerful shield charms, but not in depth. By the time they actually found the passages Professor McGonagall had come to scold them back to their dormitory.  
Before the next lesson, they met twice to practice what they'd found. Protego duo was a powerful but otherwise generic shield that both of them stuttered over. Protego diabolica produced some cold blue flames when Neville tried it out, but they didn't seem to deflect spells or even block Harry's movement.  
Protego horribilis created a permanent wall that glittered with a transparent sheen from one side but vanished from sight at the other. After cycling through each of the incantations, they devoted the majority of their final practice to strengthening Neville's wall until it completely defended him on one side, from various spells and even Harry's thrown shoe.  
"If it's this good, I bet he'll tell me not to use it," sighed Neville. "I guess it's something."

The first lesson was the duo variant and all told, the demonstration didn't go as badly as it could've. Snape still demanded a nonverbal cast that Neville couldn't produce, but after seeing Neville using the spell effectively he became bored. Neville was allowed back to his seat in short order, and with a muttering jab his eyebrows returned to a very ordinary length. The next lesson featuring the wall variant went fantastically, and Neville received a brief round of cheers with a fist pump from Harry for his efforts.  
Watching Neville perform increasingly complex shields against both students and their professor was exhilarating, and not just because Harry experienced him practice. Any spells Neville cast during class were blatantly his own accomplishment and the glower on Snape's face when he tested one said their progress was beyond his estimations. It was exactly what Harry had been looking for since Neville had canceled the horn tongue hex.  
Snape, of course, could read their minds, and Harry knew he was going to be targeted by association. But he finally felt like he was winning something against Snape. Usually.  
Harry wasn't sure what it was. Maybe Ron and Dean clapping Neville on the shoulders, Hermione congratulating him and diving into some semantics on the theory behind wards, or the fact that their next class started with Neville's mysterious blue flames repelling any curse Snape came up with. In fact, probably all of these things together incensed Snape beyond the ordinary. He didn't even condescendingly explain what the blue flames did before his wrath began.  
"Theory," Snape spat, "understanding, is of the most importance in dealing with the Dark Arts."  
 _Reckon you've got more than enough understanding,_ Harry thought to himself, and Snape knew it based on the flash in his eyes when they made eye contact.  
"The most powerful curses cannot be combated at all-only avoided, evaded, forestalled. To approach Fiendfyres without knowledge of how they develop is suicide. To utilize even a simple charm in one's defense without understanding how it will react to one's surroundings can cause unforeseen damage, or merely waste time."  
He glared at Neville on this note.  
"For the rest of class, you will sort every spell to your knowledge by all of its associated alchemical elements. While elementary, it is the first step to understanding spell reactivity. You will further describe the mechanism by which magical energy is transformed for no fewer than thirty of these spells.  
"And Longbottom," Snape intoned in cold burning quiet, "you will be sparring with me personally every class until you can last three minutes performing nonverbally."

The bloody written assignment was too much for anyone to finish without hitting the library. The entire library, in fact, as no one book did the job. Hermione had been besieged by pretty much every Gryffindor in their year for help, to the point that Harry and Neville just joined them all to commit strength in numbers. This did not fix the issue of Snape targeting Neville for his spellwork.  
They'd gotten in the habit of walking down to breakfast together to speak in brief privacy. On a morning when Ron was at the table and fixed in conversation with Seamus, Harry whispered for Neville to follow him. They walked quietly behind the two and and found a sparse area at the end of the table.  
"Alright, here's good."  
"What about Ron?" Neville asked Harry, grabbing pancakes onto his plate.  
"Ron and Hermione could use more time to themselves," he said with a significant look. This was half the truth. He also had no new evidence against Malfoy and didn't feel like talking to Ron and Hermione after they'd dismissed him again the previous night.  
Spending this much time with Neville kept Harry's mood afloat. He'd felt distantly attached to Neville since their first year, and moreso after discovering the fate of Neville's parents in the line of opposing Voldemort. The prophecy that could have concerned either of them felt bizarrely natural at its core, giving shape to a connection that he'd been aware of without pursuing. But then, it was because of the prophecy that both their families had suffered their tragic ends. . .  
Neville wiped his mouth on his sleeve while still chewing. "Do I have something on my face?"  
"What?" Harry snapped out of his reverie. Neville observed him.  
"You sure you're getting enough sleep lately, Harry?" He asked in straight-faced concern. "You've been a bit out of sorts whenever we talk."  
Harry didn't feel like sharing. "I was just thinking what we could do about nonverbal casting. I don't have much luck with it either. We could go over basic stuff verbally and then nonverbally and work our way up."  
Neville winced. "What sort of basic stuff?"  
Lumos and levitation were easy enough. Colloportus was not, but they both managed it in time to unlock the door right before McGonagall kicked them out.  
Neville was no better at switching spells then he had been a few years prior, and Harry still hadn't cast one nonverbally when they gave up for that night.  
They moved on to offensive spells and left the targets set down. Neville eventually managed to hit the desk instead of the wall, but he still couldn't aim a stun if his life depended on it. He was actually getting worse.  
"I could swear it goes a different way every time," he muttered at a pot.  
"It will if you keep saying 'stupefy' at different points in the cast."  
"There's so much movement."  
"We can come back to it later," Harry insisted, thinking, _Or never._  
Three meetings later, Neville still hadn't performed any of the spells he could actually do normally without saying them out loud, and worse, Harry hadn't noticed. It had taken him entirely too long to realize how fast Neville resorted to cheating it and just how low Neville's whispers could be.  
"I just don't think I can, Harry," he burst out glumly. Harry observed him.  
"Okay, well, try this." Harry scribbled on some parchment from McGonagall's bin and pressed it on Neville.  
"L-"  
"Nonverbally."  
Harry set his glasses down safely and could still tell he was getting an incredulous look.  
"Do it, you can! No whispering!"  
With a flick of movement, Harry was hoisted by his ankle as expected. Neville sputtered while Harry burst out laughing.  
"I've never done that before!" cried Neville's upside down blur.  
"But you did it, I told you! Now put me down with the next one!"  
He fell straight down and pushed out his arms to avoid breaking his neck. His shoulder slammed into the floor. "OW!"  
He crumpled as Neville yelped and rushed over. They both tried to apologize in between Harry making pained noises. Neville was still panicking while trying to jerk him up by the arm. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm really sorry, really."  
"It's my fault, I knew that would happen. Would've got the mat down if I'd thought at all." He grabbed Neville's shoulder for balance while straightening up. He could see Neville clearly this close. When they made eye contact, his mouth was dry.  
Harry lifted his hand and Neville pulled back, nervous grin in place. "You. . .know more about what I can do than I do."  
"Always have. I was just waiting for you to catch up."  
Neville laughed at his confidence, blurry again. "It's practically ten. I have some moonflowers to check on. They'll be everywhere if we don't get the seed pods off. . ."  
Harry replaced his glasses as they reorganized the room. They stopped outside the door upon leaving. They were still trading grins infectiously.  
"I just wanted to say, thanks." Neville leaned up and hugged Harry.  
For maybe five long seconds Harry was impossibly light. The moment stretched an eternity and still Neville released him before he could react.  
"This was fun," Neville said with a smile up at him, and turned away.  
Harry, feeling pleasantly mollified, watched Neville walk up the corridor. He was smiling across his entire face without realizing it.  
Boys didn't usually hug Harry unless he'd just caught the snitch, which made a good excuse for why he felt like he'd won the quidditch cup again. It figured Neville wouldn't care about the strangeness of being that close to him, he thought.  
There were several nice things in the world that Harry was aware of, but did not think about. This was because they were unlikely, and therefore not relevant to his already challenging life.  
The first was the way that Bill Weasley's ponytail suited him with that single ear piercing. Another had been the confused thrill of Cedric talking to Harry about taking a bath in the prefects' special bathroom. Then, long-standing, there was the sudden ease in how Neville could smile at him if Harry said the right thing.  
They were pleasant, but did not require his imagination to be enjoyed. He kept solid thought at a distance from these feelings. If he needed to think in words or images it was not the time to feel. . .any of that. He wasn't avoiding the issue, really, it was just the safest way to engage. He walked back to the common room, tripping over a suit of armor and nearly knocking it down before taking a wrong turn and having to double back.  
He eventually pushed off the feeling of Neville hugging him so that he could focus on his sense of direction. Still, Harry went to bed with the his ulterior motives multiplying. Getting back at Snape was good, but so was meeting this new version of Neville that kept getting braver.


	3. Chapter 3

Quidditch practice, as always, was set and canceled by the weather, and Neville spent many evenings helping Professor Sprout with fussy or simply numerous plants that didn't seem to be maturing on any weekly schedule. They'd decided to meet irregularly to begin with. The downside to this was that after Ron and Hermione's spat, Harry missed the chance to use several good evenings over the weeks on their DADA study. Hermione had to be headed off at specific times if he wanted to see her at all, Ron wanted to complain or just hang out every morning and lunch break that he wasn't wrapped around someone, and Harry remained committed to keeping the private studying a private secret.  
Neville, for his part, had migrated to an empty seat next to Luna. They were a pair of smiles and peaceful conversation. Harry saw Seamus and even the occasional ex-DA member join them some days. Ron eventually caught him staring across the hall.  
"What were you and Neville talking about anyway?"  
"Nothing," he said.  
"With Neville? That lines up."  
Harry narrowed his eyes, but Ron just rolled his own.  
"What then, he tell you about plants? The lastest thing that's got him nervous? I'm just saying, not much of a laugh, is he?" Ron's tone was casual.  
Harry's past year had been a little brighter thanks to how thoroughly pleasant people like Luna and Neville were. "He laughs a lot more than you these days."  
"Not what I meant."  
"He's my friend."  
"I know he's nice, and I know what he did at the ministry," Ron said quickly. "He's just not interesting."  
"Would he be more interesting if he went around making snide remarks about people behind their backs?"  
"We do that all the time. I mean look at Malfoy. Git," he said pointedly, "but when someone hexes him-or just VEXES him-he gets the whole school laughing at them-"  
"-you mean US-"  
"Or he duels them in the hall, way more productive than keeping his head down. At least it's exciting."  
Harry spent their first period ignoring Ron's side commentary after this. By second period with Flitwick working them to the bone he grudgingly remembered where Ron was coming from; it took all of his self control not to lean over and share every scathing remark he had about the instructions on duplication charms.  
So Neville was more likely to speak plainly, or at least describe his day without using sarcasm. (Had he ever heard Neville say something sarcastic?) That wasn't a bad thing, if not always what Harry had been looking for when Snape had tossed out his fish scales twice and made him waste the class boiling them again. But Neville was honest, and maybe, he thought, as he watched Hermione working alone on the other side of every classroom they were in, maybe that could be better than being a laugh.

Since Neville finally believed he could cast nonverbally, he improved as rapidly as Harry had expected. He silently used the shield charm in his own defence during Snape's excuse for a class. It had been several chaotic months, but Snape moved on, and Harry was no longer needed.  
This was slightly disappointing, but Neville still grinned at him across the room whenever one of them knocked Malfoy over and Harry beamed back.  
After too many weeks Harry ditched Ron without a word and accosted Neville in the hall.  
"Look who's," he punched Neville lightly on the arm, one fist after another and again, "the master of the shield charm!"  
"What. What is that." Neville was smiling up to his eyes even as he pulled away from the contact. "What are you doing."  
It was as good an excuse to talk to him as any. "Sorry I haven't-"  
"You'll get yours, blood traitors!"  
Malfoy was glaring straight down the hall as he blew past them. They froze with their wands half out and watched him stomp off to another classroom.  
"It's like he's not even trying anymore," said Neville in amazement.  
"Must have his mind on something else," Harry replied darkly, shamefully aware his major theories were only as likely as the possibility that Malfoy feared Neville's haphazard approach to dueling.  
"Weird. So, when did you want to meet up?" he asked brightly.  
Harry opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it and thought fast. "We don't have quidditch tomorrow, how about then?"  
"Works for me," Neville told him cheerfully and walked ahead.  
They were still going to work together. Harry would need to come up with good material, but Neville still wanted to spend time with him.

Neville's ward thing was now so strong they had to ask McGonagall for help getting rid of it. She taught Harry a sort of lightning spell that did the trick, on top of feeling cooler and more useful than anything they'd picked up from Snape directly.  
Harry toyed with spell canceling, but he had a pile of other homework to focus on and his study partner already had it down. Neville could now remove most damage they were capable of with even a nonverbal cast. This left them more room than ever for actual dueling. Harry had never actually learned how to block before and found himself learning more in their meet ups than he did in some of his classes. Neville made for a deeply unpredictable opponent, since he used various spells in place of stuns or disarms. He also never managed to aim the same way twice.  
Even better, Neville's persistent fear of Snape was finally transforming into anger. "I hate those bloody pictures he put up on the wall," Neville complained one evening while they squinted at a written assignment. _Based on the root and command, describe the expected effects of the following curses. Nasotendus, Exterreri Premit. . ._ "He makes me face the Cruciatus one whenever he can."  
Harry nodded solemnly, skimming through a Latin dictionary from the library. "He's evil."  
They didn't get to practice anything interesting that time. The assignment would've gone quicker if they'd tested some of the damn spells out on Goyle instead of figuring out what obscure conjugation of the actual root(or was it the command they were conjugating?) they were using, but Neville told him off for suggesting they mess around with random curses. Knowing Snape, at least one of them would be horrid anyway. As he dug the Maurauders' Map out of his trunk that night, Harry found an old photograph and got an idea.

"Here, Neville, take a look at this."  
Neville looked at him with confusion as he took it, then down to the photograph. Imminently, he scrunched up his face. "Is that you?"  
"What? No, that's my dad." He resisted the urge to start pointing and explaining.  
"Oh, okay." He spent several long seconds being pensive over the photo. When his eyes stayed in one spot long enough, Harry knew he had seen, and waited impatiently.  
"Those-are my parents," he said quietly. "Before."  
The word was self explanatory. "Yeah," Harry said. "This was the Order of the Phoenix."  
Neville looked him in the eye, evidently aware there was going to be an explanation now.  
"They fought Voldemort together," Harry said proudly. "They worked for Dumbledore, they were the last and best resistance there was." He left out the colorful stories Moody had added when presenting the picture to him.  
"Our parents knew each other?"  
"They did."  
Neville's eyes drifted back over the picture. "That's Professor Lupin. And more of our teachers. . .and that man, he was Amelia Bones' brother, the one the Death Eaters killed. This was why?"  
Harry winced at Neville's inquiring look. "A bunch of them didn't make it."  
"I never knew. . .about them all working together," Neville said in awe. "I mean, my parents were aurors. Somehow I thought other people looked out for their families and, I dunno, voted or something. Gran always talks about back then like it was politics and people getting assassinated."  
"A lot of it is, I guess," Harry mused. "We've had plenty of that already."  
Neville stared at him with interest. "What did the Order do?"  
"They fought-"  
"How? There weren't enough of them to just fight."  
Harry wrinkled his forehead. "They worked with information, mostly? They spied on Voldemort's ministry spies, they kept track of what and who he had to work with, searched for weaknesses Voldemort himself could have, kept" -he thought of his parents taking him into hiding-"anything that could give him an advantage guarded."  
"Are you in the Order?"  
"Of course not, I'm-" Neville's expression startled him. With horror, he remembered seeing the same determination from him maybe six months ago in the Department of Mysteries.  
"So it's still on? With Lupin and Moody and new people, I know Nymphadora Tonks is an auror," Neville blurted out fast.  
"Er." Harry had not meant to incriminate the Order, but he'd also forgotten that Lupin and Moody had both shown themselves working very extracurricularly for Dumbledore at the ministry last spring. Did he want to tell Neville? Didn't he have as much right to know as anyone else about to come of age?  
Just as suddenly, Neville dropped it. He opened _Confronting the Faceless,_ annoyed. "So, what did you want to look at? The book has some interesting ideas about how to use gripping charms for protection, but they're not very strong. . ."

Harry dreams he's in the astronomy tower. Norbert was supposed to meet him for a balloon ride but Neville runs in to tell him Dawlish is coming. You told me to come here, says dream Neville. No I didn't, I was here for Norbert and he left without me, we'll get detention at the ministry if we're caught, says dream Harry. I want to be here and I won't leave dream Neville tells him. Harry is terrified by how good it feels.

The Weasleys were overjoyed to have Harry for the winter holidays. Before Christmas he ended up on a couch next to Lupin, who had told him about life with the werewolves and looked as morose as Harry was beginning to feel.  
"Lupin, in the Order. . .how often is everyone prepared to die?"  
Lupin shot him a startled look, and replied seriously. "Death is never something to approach lightly, Harry. We don't risk each other's lives on a whim."  
When Harry didn't respond, he continued. "We know what we're up against when we join, and we're careful about who gets in at all. There are plenty of causes in this war that are worth the danger of fighting for, but that's all the more reason to keep ourselves and our friends alive."  
"Right," Harry replied weakly.  
"Is there anything that brought this on?" Lupin's voice was full of concern as he leaned closer.  
Harry paused before deciding he could share this with Lupin. "At the Department of Mysteries. . . Neville was different than usual."  
"How do you mean?"  
"He got his face dented in and it just made him more aggressive. You saw what he was like at school," Harry recalled Snape confronting Lupin about Neville, "someone makes a joke about him and he gets scared. But he gets attacked by Death Eaters and suddenly he's. . .  
"Before the Order showed up, it was just the two of us left with the worst of Voldemort's people. I told him to stay with the others while I drew them off but he burst in after me. He couldn't even cast anything, his voice was messed up. They grabbed him, and. . ."  
Suddenly it felt too horrible to admit. That Neville was tortured by the same witch that ruined his parents' lives, with the same curse, because he had followed Harry. He hadn't actually talked to anyone about it before now and found he couldn't say it. Was it easy to assume? This filled him with dread.  
"The Death Eaters said they'd kill him if I didn't give them the prophecy," Harry continued quietly.  
"That was an extraordinarily painful situation to be in," Lupin reassured him, "anyone would be terrified."  
"It was like Neville wasn't even afraid. He just kept yelling for me not to hand over the prophecy. I don't even know how well he understood what was going on but," Harry went on quickly, "I think he was ready to die."  
Lupin had no immediate response. He seemed to be considering this.  
"I've never gotten anyone done like that, even Ron and Hermione, we were in danger, we risked our lives but I've never had anyone, used like that." Even Ginny had been asleep, he thought, not awake and screaming for him not to save her. Bellatrix hadn't had a use for Neville, even, she just made him hurt.  
Lupin watched him carefully. "It was hideous, what was done to Neville's parents."  
Harry looked down in shame. Lupin knew.  
"You didn't get anyone 'done,' Harry. The Death Eaters are cruel of their own volition."  
"If I had handed over the prophecy, would they have hurt him anyway?"  
"That would be the most likely outcome."  
Harry's stomach dropped through to the floor. "If you hadn't shown up. . ."  
"We did, and it ended the way it ended. Neville remains whole in body and mind."  
The word "whole" chafed Harry, who narrowed his eyes at Lupin. Lupin dithered.  
"I mean he may not have gone mentally unscathed, but he is able to live a normal life. As are you, despite the pain you have seen and experienced."  
Harry knew and didn't care for what "normal" meant here. "You're plenty whole yourself."  
Lupin's eyebrows furrowed as he smiled down in response. Harry knew an adult's condescension when he saw it.


	4. Chapter 4

The end of February and beginning of March was driving Harry to his wit's end. Claiming he needed to talk with Neville became a convenient excuse to get away from McLaggen, Lavender and anyone else, but it meant he couldn't pull out the Maurauders' Map and kept getting agitated.  
"Hey Neville," he eventually allowed himself to ask, "do you think Malfoy WOULD join the Death Eaters?"  
"I expect he's going to. Same with his buddies," Neville said blandly. They were positioned at different heights on the stairs to the top of the astronomy tower, despite it being early in the afternoon. The tower was one of the few places students didn't normally go in the day. It had no comfortable seats and the Bloody Baron made a disturbing racket every few hours, but it provided an effective hiding place.  
"But what about now? Would he even be able to?"  
"Of course he could."  
Harry couldn't believe his ears. He stared down at Neville with hopeful intent. "You don't think he's too young?"  
Neville raised an eyebrow from over his shoulder. "Death Eaters join young. I heard Antonin Dolohov joined when he was 18, and Barty Crouch would've been younger than that." He returned to examining some diagram in a Herbology book Harry didn't recognize.  
"Malfoy's sixteen."  
"And raised on their beliefs since he was a kid. With his father's connections, he probably knows a lot about them already. They wouldn't be moving up the timetable much if he joined now." Neville shivered and stared into space. "It would give them someone at Hogwarts if they got a student. Someone to do more recruiting. They lost a bunch of people at the ministry, expect they want numbers."  
"But what if they needed something more specific," Harry insisted, "Would they trust a student with that?"  
"If they needed something at Hogwarts a student would be best," Neville asserted, "Less scrutiny than trying to go through a teacher again, right? Dumbledore's closer to them than he is to the student body." He absently flipped a page.  
Why hadn't anyone else put it like that? Harry could have kicked himself for not telling it so concisely. Voldemort had been the one to give Draco Malfoy a task and it must be important. In his excitement he threw caution to the wind. "Neville, hear me out. . ."  
Harry listed off every vague piece of evidence he had on his theory, leaving out most of the conversation with Snape. Neville turned to listen without a single question, watching some patch of empty space to the left of Harry's head looking focused. When Harry finished, he finally returned his attention and spoke.  
"Okay. What are you going to do?"  
Harry was dumbstruck, but gathered himself. "For now I'm going to keep an eye on him, see if I can find out what he's up to."  
"Do you know where he's going?" Neville asked patiently.  
"No, I haven't been able to find him," said Harry irritably, "It's like he vanishes."  
"I wonder if he's using the Room of Requirement," wondered Neville, "now everyone knows where it is. . ."  
"No, he can't be-" unless the room was required by someone who needed to not be found. "Neville you're a genius!"  
And to Neville's bemusement, he burst up, jumped down the stairs over Neville's legs, and ran back to the common room to look at the map. Neville cried after him. "Harry, just don't get in over y-"

The next day, Neville had singed his pants again. Harry could tell, because despite his clothes being clean and together, he smelled a bit like charcoal and looked unhappy. He also hadn't seen Harry yet, even though they were both outside the Defence classroom.  
Harry crept halfway up to grab Neville by surprise before he remembered that Neville didn't like surprises.  
"Neville, hey!" Neville whipped his head and just as he'd been seen, Harry moved behind Neville in the same direction he was trying to turn.  
"Harry what-" He finally gave in to impulse and put his hands on Neville's shoulders, sidestepping Neville's baffled attempts to face him. He relented after a couple turns, but not before swiping his hand through Neville's hair first, though.  
"What's up?" Harry snickered in the face of one very confused look.   
Neville rubbed the back of his head and left his hand in his hair, pulling it for some reason. "Did you do the homework?"  
"Uh, yeah. We did it last night," Harry reminded him lightly. Neville stared at the wall behind him, focused. "You sure you're getting enough sleep lately?" Harry prodded.  
"You sound like Ginny, we stayed up reading. . ." Suddenly Neville got the joke and gave him a long suffering look. "Oh, very funny."  
"That's what I'm here for," he told him and skimmed the top of Neville's hair again.   
Neville finally smirked, but only while telling Harry to knock it off. Mission accomplished, at least. Apparently he should stick to looking and not touching in the future. He updated Neville on his lack of progress and new theory about Crabbe and Goyle using Polyjuice while they filed into the classroom.

He couldn't get in the room and got stuck watching the map. Ron was getting sick of him going over what they knew, but this time Ginny appeared when Harry was hitting his stride. She knew about the Order, and that made her fair game. "He's completely given up bullying," Harry argued on the walk down to the quidditch pitch for their first practice after getting rid of McLaggen. Ron grunted in place of a response for the third time. "Neville says Malfoy hasn't gone after him once this year."  
"So?" Asked Ginny, flopping into pace alongside them. "They probably ran out of insults when they realized he isn't actually a squib."  
"He isn't bullying the first years either, he hasn't stuck around to pick a fight with me once, he's just whispering with Nott and the other Slytherins. Why's he hanging out with Nott all of a sudden?" Harry kept listing his points without pausing for breath. "Neville said plenty of Death Eaters join when they're barely older than us! Malfoy could be testing the waters for recruits on top of whatever Voldemort has him doing!"  
Ron winced and muttered something like "please don't say" under his breath.  
"If the inquisitorial squad was Malfoy's best performance, I don't see how the Death Eaters would consider him secret agent material," Ginny shot back. She had not given up on arguing against him seriously yet. "They trust Snape, why couldn't they go through him?"  
"They know Snape is a double agent AND he's a teacher, there's only so much he can do under Dumbledore's nose-"  
"His very impressive nose that some big headed sixteen year old would be very lucky to outwit," she said sagely.  
Ron snorted, but hurried away from them when Harry glared at him in betrayal. Ginny fixed Harry under a hard look despite being a full head shorter than him.  
"Hermione's right, you know. Why would Malfoy even go through Hogsmeade? You don't know what he's doing for who. He's no boy Voldemort. Let Snape worry about him trying to impress people."  
It was very low of her to bring up his best friend against him when they were one on one, he thought, and spite made Harry fire back.  
"It was Neville's idea to check the Room of Requirement, you know. I don't know if he really believes it but at least he's not-"  
"Believes? Believes what?" Ginny interrupted him.  
"I talked to him and he had helpful suggestions!"  
"You TOLD him?" Her eyes blazed. "He's not supposed to know about the Order-"  
"I left out the part-"  
"I KNEW you would tell him!" Ginny's volume went up, "I knew you'd tell him, just because he'd take your side-"  
Harry felt offended for Neville. "He's not 'taking my side,' he just agrees it would be good for the Death Ea-"  
"Of course he's taking your side!"  
"He is NOT, he never agreed with HALF the things I got up to-"  
"Bit different though, lately, isn't he, following you around!"  
"HE IS NOT-FOLLOWING-ME-AROUND!" He knew his face was getting hot but couldn't pull back. "Maybe he DOES see things a bit differently, now that the people who tortured his parents are running around with Voldemort back!"  
"Voldemort attacked my dad!" retorted Ginny, "OUR DAD! You think we're not taking this seriously and YOU are?"  
"I didn't say that!"  
"Just drop it with Malfoy already, you've got no proof and you're driving everyone nuts, Dad's in enough trouble over your stupid ideas without you driving everyone else up the wall!"  
And with that she marched off to the field and ignored several of his instructions during practice.  
Ron offered an olive branch afterwards.  
"For what it's worth, I asked about telling Neville last time I wrote," he said generously. "Everyone said it's not allowed without a guardian's permission or whatever, but pretty much no one knows about the Order unless they're in it. So that's a convenient way of telling us to shut it while we're at school."  
"It won't stay safe here forever," Harry muttered, "Everyone who's losing family is involved whether they want it or not."  
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Easy to forget a war could start any day, staying around here. Feels like a different universe from last year. That's what the teachers want, right?" His cheer was a bit half-hearted.  
"It feels useless. We told people about Voldemort coming back so everyone could prepare."  
"We are preparing. Dumbledore's preparing you, classes are preparing us so we don't get swept so hard next time we have to fight, and everyone's trying to stay, well, reasonably happy so we don't all lose it before the war ends. Pani-I mean," he corrected himself under Harry's ire, "seriously, don't take it out on me-running yourself into the ground over Malfoy isn't exactly helping you focus."  
"I'm not panicking."  
Ron shrugged. "You're not relaxed, either, mate."

A day later Harry couldn't get the comments about Neville off his mind. If anything he was the one following Neville around. . .they were friends. . .they hadn't talked much before fifth year, but that was just because Harry didn't care about plants. It's not like Neville cares about, Harry's thought trailed off as he struggled to remember if he had hobbies. Quidditch! It's not like Neville talks to me about quidditch!  
But that wasn't true. Neville had talked to him about quidditch. He'd asked questions and listened attentively while Harry went on tangents about rivalries and advanced broomriding moves. He had a vague familiarity with the sport and showed up to Harry's matches, despite never showing the passion he, Ron and the other Weasleys always did. The whole school showed up to matches, though, it wasn't just Neville. . .  
The next afternoon, he was walking toward the greenhouse before he had time to regret it.  
He'd never been in the sprawling greenhouse outside classes. Professor Sprout kept enough plants to work with seven grades of students year round, different colors of vines and flowering shoots that required unique levels of sunlight and exposure to heat or moisture. A great deal of Herbology was gardening, and gardening was long and fiddly work. The look on Professor Sprout's face when she discussed a demanding plant that was ready for harvest reminded Harry of how Mrs. Figg had crooned over her spoiled cats. He still took the class, but he'd been regretting it on top of all his other classwork lately.  
He slowed down as he passed the door, feeling stupid. Did he have to knock on the door to get in? Would he be allowed in?  
He passed around the side of the structure, trying to make it look like he was just walking closer to it than usual while going toward Hagrid's hut. A path of stones was made to keep students from wearing down the nearby grass. He made to take it for once, but something flickered over the path. A single dark snake.  
Harry had poor experiences with snakes, but this one looked nothing like Voldemort's pets. It would be smaller than his hand once coiled, with no visible fangs. Upon closer inspection it had picturesque black and yellow pinstripes. A Hufflepuff snake, he thought with a smile, not a Slytherin one.  
 _"Hey little one,"_ he hissed easily. _"How are you?"_  
It turned slightly towards him and raised its head a bit. _"Hungry. You drove off my quarry, human."  
"My apologies."  
"You are not the first. But your manners do you credit."_  
Harry kneeled down, flattered. _"Do you live in the forest?"  
"I survive in any land I face,"_ the snake declared, drawing itself back. _"The stones are warmer than the forest, however. I prefer the places the humans seek for their own, and thrive in solitude."_  
It made for the edge of the forest, probably to find a new meal. He watched it leave feeling a bit lonely. Snakes were usually more interested in him than this.  
"Hello?"  
Harry spun to look without getting up. Neville was looking straight at him, holding a tray of something with enormous leaves spilling out of multiple planters. He was looking a bit goofy in warm ear muffs, though probably not as goofy as Harry felt on his hands and knees. Harry struggled up, wiping his hands on his robes.  
"Hey Harry! What're you doing?"  
Harry couldn't say that he'd shown up to visit Neville out of guilt. Or any other true reason. "Great, thanks. I was headed to Hagrid's."  
Neville watched him for a few moments. "Is something back there?"  
Harry took entirely too long to decide if he wanted to answer, before talking just to end the awkward silence. "Therewassasnake."  
"Sorry?"  
Harry started tapping his feet to calm down. "There was a, um, snake. I don't know if they're wanted by the greenhouse."  
"Oh, really! That's cool, we don't usually get them. They don't like the cold up here in the mountains."  
"It's not a, y'know, problem? If snakes go in there to catch mice or stuff. . ."  
"Oh no, no problem!" Neville said cheerfully. "That's fine. Well, have fun at Hagrid's.  
"Bye Harry!" Neville called. And he walked his planters back to the greenhouse and closed the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end notes for minor warning

Ginny ran into Neville reading in the common room. By himself, to her relief. She wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone closer to Dean right now.  
"So, who're you gonna date next?" he asked.  
"Whoever I want," said Ginny, flipping her hair as she settled on the couch beside him.  
He seemed surprised, considering he'd asked. "You sure you don't want to be single for a while?"  
"I've been single most of my life."  
"I know, it's just. . ." He trailed off, looking concerned. She faced him, feeling worried.  
He continued. "At the rate you're going, you might run out of guys before you graduate."  
The fact that he managed to say this with perfect eye contact and a straight face was unbelievable.  
She brought her leg up to the couch and wielded it at his shoulder, kicking. "I. Take. Back. EVERY nice thing. I have EVER SAID ABOUT YOU-"  
He pulled farther down the couch laughing as she stretched her leg to keep mock kicking him.  
"Well, guys worth dating, anyway-"  
"You'd think I had dated more than three guys!"  
"Who was three?"  
"Dean?"  
"I thought he was two "  
"Oh, that's how it is." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you wouldn't spread rumors around, would you?"  
He immediately sobered. "No way, it's bad news doing that."  
"What do you think of Justin?" She asked. "Hufflepuff, your year."  
"Oh, he is kind of cute," said Neville, impressed.  
She eyed him with interest, but stayed on topic. "I met him in the library the other day. If I could get him alone I might talk to him and see where that goes."  
Neville nodded approval. Probably, anyway. If he had any kind of opinion about Ginny trying to tongue a guy she'd never spoken to one on one, he kept it to himself, which was one of about three reasons she could speak to him like this. Luna's opinions on boys usually amounted to speculation on how many nargles were hiding in their uncleaned hair.  
"Any changes on that thing we were worried about?" She asked.  
"Like what?" Neville stated at a page in his book more than at Ginny.  
She watched him accusingly. "You were the one saying it would be more useful to keep track of what he's doing than tell him to stop."  
Neville was being furtive, leaning forward over his book. "He hasn't talked to me about it."  
Ginny prodded his arm with one foot. Neville was glaring at his precious book at this point. "I don't see why you're worried about it," he informed her quietly, "You were the one calling Malfoy soft."  
"For the Death Eaters, yeah." Ginny scooted next to him so she could speak clearly at low volume, but slouched back to look casual anyway. "I'm telling you, he's not getting in that crowd. But if Harry does something stupid, you know the prat will kick up a fuss."  
"If Harry tells me he's going to, I don't know, do anything worse than we do to him in Defence, I will make him take me along, and I'll physically knock out Harry Potter if I have to," Neville assured her with poor enthusiasm. _"Unless_ Malfoy really needs it and we won't get caught," he added stubbornly.  
Ginny clicked her tongue. "Good man."

Harry spent the next week checking for the snake once a day, but most days it was absent. Snakes were independent creatures, he supposed, like owls. Couldn't expect it to beg for his attention. The one day he did find it was a sunny day that couldn't maintain a complete chill on the stones. He greeted it in surprise, but it only flicked its tongue lazily at him and went back to sleep.  
Even without Harry asking him to hang out that week, there was no way to predict when Neville might show up in the greenhouse, prompting Harry to duck. He wondered vaguely why it was so hard to stop sneaking around, or even start a conversation about Neville's primary interest, but he simply didn't know where to begin. Starting a conversation with the risk of coming off like he wasn't interested seemed like the worst kind of insult, especially since Neville didn't share much about his interests. He settled for chasing the Hufflepuff snake as an excuse to keep an eye on the area.  
To his surprise, the snake did in fact approach him on the next sunny afternoon that he checked for it.  
 _"Human. You have entered the great shiny,"_ it hissed. After looking over at the shining glass walls, he understood.  
 _"At times, yes."  
"There have been mice and many insects, crawling into it through not just their little holes but the big ones the humans use, yes. I cannot enter so unnoticed. Many times now, humans have seen me and attacked. Would you allow me to enter as you do?"_  
The absurdity of the situation was counteracted by how blissfully straightforward it was. _"Follow me."_  
The door was unlocked, but no one was visible as they entered and he closed it behind the snake. Harry idled halfway through the greenhouse, letting the Hufflepuff snake keep pace. He glanced around as he went, until Trevor the toad croaked plaintively at him from under a ludicrously orange flower. Neville's head shot up from behind vegetation about three rows down.  
"Pro-oh, Harry!" He shouted. "What's going on?"  
Harry sped over. "Uh, hey!"  
The ear muffs were gone. Neville wasn't even wearing robes now, just a muggle t shirt with trainers and durable pants, the latter severely stained. He was pulling a rubber band off a bag of fertilizer while he looked at Harry expectantly.  
"Meet my new friend," Harry gestured with his leg. Unfortunately the snake was farther than he'd thought behind him and slithering in a different direction with fervor. He grit his teeth. "Or not."  
He dodged around plant beds and rushed to catch up, hearing the murmur of a predator's excitement. _"I will feassst. . ."  
"If you want to stay you have to introduce yourself!"_ Harry demanded in an awkward run.  
 _"My dinner is in here. . ."  
"Be polite and the humans in here will be polite to you,"_ he hissed loudly, stooping to see under a shelf on the wall. _"Then you can come in every day."_  
The snake finally returned to his side. _"Make it quick."_  
Neville was already there when Harry looked behind him. "It just wants to eat bugs and stuff from in here. It asked to use the door."  
Neville nodded slowly, face unmoving. The snake raised itself and bowed its head at Neville before returning to the hunt.  
Harry scuffed his shoe on the floor. He hadn't planned this far ahead. It was too quiet.  
Neville broke the silence first. "They eat lots of pests and stuff. Aphids, mice, even things stronger than they are if they can poison them."  
"I will make sure it doesn't eat Trevor," Harry burst out, alarmed.  
"Oh, Trevor's magicked against venoms and stuff," Neville explained. "He doesn't have much problem with snakes. He's so big for a toad, he just sits on them."  
Harry nodded. He tried to look like he was thinking about something specific instead of just struggling to talk. "I could come in with it just to, uh, keep track of-"  
The snake appeared at Harry's elbow with satisfaction. _"I hope you're happy,"_ he scolded.  
Neville made a strained huffing noise and cracked into half a smile. Harry stared and realized he must have been trying not to look amused for a while.  
"It might've been someone's pet before," said Neville sheepishly, clearly determined to be polite. "If it's a garden snake, its not native."  
"Really?" Harry turned to the snake. _"Are you from across the seas?"  
"I was born in a cage, and traded away for gold,"_ it hissed. _"But I made it to this forest from the castle. My first victory."  
"How brave of you,"_ Harry praised it. _"You're not a pet at all."_  
Neville frowned at their unintelligible exchange. "If it goes running around by itself, it better not give Trevor any ideas."  
Harry considered this a lost cause. The snake flicked its tongue and said _"let me smell you."_  
Harry offered his finger, only to find the snake licking it. He bent to get a better look, trying to get a sense of how the tongue was shaped.  
Neville was enjoying this. "Ask it to stay, would you? They're good for the dirt," he snickered, "like worms."  
"Worms? It's not a worm."  
Neville stifled a laugh. He was playing with the rubber band, pulling it out over one finger and thumb and repeatedly stretching it with the other hand. "Well, you're both welcome in here."  
To Harry's delight, he didn't mind the two of them entering unannounced and wandering about while he worked. Harry found it more interesting than he could have hoped to hang around the greenhouse. It eliminated the need to ask awkward questions, as Neville was thrilled to talk idly about anything he worked on while Harry did homework. Harry decided he preferred visual learning to conversation alone; plants had never been more interesting than when Neville was manhandling them. It was like an herbology lesson where Harry got to sit in the sun and watch Neville inadvertently smudge dirt over his nose.  
Harry had seen him in muggle clothes before, but not gardening. The t shirt allowed him to watch the way Neville moved, which Harry did less than politely over his next visits. Something about the lot of them hitting puberty had made boys his age look a lot more interesting, but the two of them were also built rather differently. Neville's soft, stocky back appeared unexpectedly unfamiliar.  
He pretended to be very interested in the windows whenever Neville faced him.  
"Do you get extra credit for helping out?" Harry inquired one afternoon.  
"Nah, I just like it in here. Last year I was coming in to talk to Sprout or just visit these guys-" Neville gestured an elbow at the greenery coated shelves, beaming- "so often she gave me a key and said I could come in whenever!"  
_And_ _I bet_ _the Slytherins don't wander in here for fun,_ Harry thought to himself, fully aware that Sprout and McGonagall just happened to be good friends.  
When Harry did ask questions, Neville would answer absolutely anything with the sort of long explanations Harry hadn't come to expect from him since first year. They would leave for the night with Neville glowing from hard work and Harry glowing with something else.

Only so much could distract Harry from Malfoys odd behavior, though he had considerable trouble picking things that would not incriminate him if Ginny or someone found out he'd told Neville.  
"Since when am I a blood traitor, anyway? I'm half blood."  
"He meant your family," Neville said while staring moodily at an unwanted vine that flinched from his grasp. When Harry didn't respond, he clarified. "Your dad's family, the Potters."  
"They were pureblood, right? Like you and Malfoy." He wondered how much fun someone would have in a kindly, well to do magical family. James Potter the teenager had certainly been joyful and confident.  
Neville snorted for some reason. "I am NOT pureblood like Malfoy."  
"But you are pureblood."  
"My mum isn't. She's half blood."  
"Okay? What, they don't like your mom?"  
"It means. . ." He trailed off, looking upset. "You don't really want to hear about that stuff, do you?" Neville asked in bitter embarrassment. "Blood purity."  
"I guess not," Harry said. Neville instantly relaxed, and an aggressive vine that had been regarding him stilled. "Uh, I don't wanna distract you," Harry apologized.  
Neville grabbed deep in the cluster of wandering Devil's Snare, and his hand reappeared grasping an especially thick tendril with many finer shoots that reached for his arm. "No, it's fine! Keeps me focused, honestly. This gets repetitive."  
A flattering voice resonated from the nearest door. "Spare a moment for me, Pomona?"  
Harry dove for his books and pulled them out of sight with him. Neville looked at him like he was ridiculous but squirmed himself when Slughorn approached.  
"Longbottom? Not sneaking around, I hope," Slughorn chided him with exaggerated disappointment.  
Neville shrunk into himself. "Professor Sprout knows I'm in here, she's a bit busy to handle. . .busywork."  
"Oh, why, I didn't realize Pomona had students helping her." Slughorn checked Neville over in interest.  
"Just weeding," Neville intoned blandly, edging towards a plant that looked less aggressive. "I think she's having an early dinner so she can plant. . . something at dusk."  
The tone he took was intriguing, given that an hour ago he'd been bursting with excitement that Sprout was going to let him observe and take notes while she planted some root mushroom thing that would ignite if exposed to any direct light.  
"If I head back to the castle now, I might catch her. I needed to know if she had any Mandrake root, most of our old supply got used up at some point."  
"I'm sure she'll be happy to discuss it," Neville said in a final way, and decided to watch his own feet non-descriptly. This had the intended effect, and Slughorn bid Neville good afternoon as he closed the door.  
Harry stayed sitting behind the same row Neville worked at. "Glad that's over with."  
"Mandrake root, huh?" Neville said wistfully.  
Harry wracked his brain, then swallowed. "Hermione'd've been a goner without that stuff."  
Neville appraised him. "Ginny'd've been a real goner if you hadn't killed that basilisk. The school could've closed."  
A familiar place in Harry's gut started to squirm. "We should've brought a real teacher with us. I only lived because Dumbledore's phoenix showed up to save me."  
Neville looked at him, amazed. "You should hear the stuff you say sometimes."  
Suddenly Harry wished Neville had said he should've talked to a teacher instead. He scrambled for a new subject. "You would've liked Potions with Slughorn, y'know. I wish you'd taken it. He's nothing like Snape."  
Neville's face fell and stared at him in contention.  
"He's not GREAT, but the class is good."  
Neville's expression was unyielding.  
"Okay, he's a pompous git," said Harry, exasperated.  
Neville looked away, pulling on the vine he'd abandoned halfway through uprooting it. "You realize Slughorn is the kind of person who puts a lot of stock in what I just got done saying? The strength of bloodlines?"  
"I know, and it's annoying but he's no Death Eater, right?" For all that Harry disliked Slughorn, he wasn't clear on why Neville would dislike him more. Perhaps because they were in the greenhouse, Neville offered a full explanation.  
"Not everyone has to be a Death Eater to be full of it," he said flippantly. "There's a reason the Malfoys and the Blacks are always talking about how they're the only true wizarding families with pride. Malfoy doesn't like my family because intermarrying with non-purebloods is. . .seen as making the family impure.  
"To people like. . .them, and my dad's family, my bloodline is seen as," Neville grimaced, "diluted. Since I have so much muggle blood, they thought I might be a squib. So when I didn't show signs, they started. . .doing weird stuff."  
Neville didn't continue right away, gently separating an entanglement of different roots. "Like what?" Harry asked stubbornly.  
"Just," Neville was starting to look at him again, "scaring me randomly, putting my hand over the fireplace. My great uncle kicked me off a pier one time."  
Neville seemed odd when he mentioned the last part. Harry couldn't place why. "Did you swim out okay?"  
He shook his head. "I couldn't swim yet. He said he was gonna teach me how, then he came up behind me, and then he just sat back and watched. I almost drowned before Gran found us."  
This was disturbing, even by Harry's standards. Harry couldn't remember the Dursleys attempting to commit murder. "He tried to drown you?"  
Neville looked shocked. He shot into more detail with embarrassment. "No, of course not! That wasn't-I mean, the point was to see if I had magic. Then every time something happened and I didn't do magic it was just another reason to do it again," Neville shrugged.  
None of that actually disputed what he'd been asked. Harry wasn't done being horrified. "But I thought your family wasn't like the Malfoys-"  
"They're not, they don't follow You-Know-Who. They just don't want non-magical people in the family." Neville elaborated, "they don't mind muggleborns. As long as you've got magic, it doesn't matter what your lineage is. But a diluted wizard linage means the family might be affected, and in my case I wasn't, enough for them, I guess, until they knew I had magic."  
The image of Merope Gaunt on the floor while her father taunted her appeared in Harry's mind.  
"I love my family, but it's," Neville looked deeply uncomfortable, halfheartedly examining the plantbed without working, "hard to talk to them."  
They were quiet for a time. "I don't get it," Harry's voice cracked from where he was sitting, "they could've killed you-"  
"I said it's not like that."  
"But they did all that dangerous stuff just to, what, test you? How's that love? If you have a hard time talking to them, have you talked about it?"  
"It's not that simple," Neville answered firmly. "They're pretty set about stuff, it's not easy to argue with them."  
"So you just don't talk about it anymore? It doesn't bother you? How can you love them if you can't talk to them about this stuff-"  
Neville interrupted him shortly. "Not everyone can talk to their family and have some logical argument about things. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop liking them."  
"How?! This isn't like some prank toy you're hiding under your bed-"  
Neville was angry, viciously. "I can't just talk to my parents and have an argument with them, I still love them!"  
"That's-" Harry sputtered, confused how or why Neville had started glaring at him. He had never brought up his parents on his own before. "Neville, I'm sorry," Harry pleaded for lack of a better option.  
Neville glared at him a while longer. He was blatantly still upset when he clenched his jaw and gazed around in a sort of lost way. Finally, he went back to weeding. With the sun gone down and the silence aching, Harry had no idea what to do except leave.

He couldn't make head or tail of how their argument had gone the way it did. When they talked, Neville was distantly cheerful again, like Harry had never been to the greenhouse in the first place. Harry retreated to watching the map for potential Death Eaters at any spare moment.  
Why didn't Neville hold those attitudes against his family when he'd brought it up complaining about Slughorn? _Maybe you don't understand what a family is,_ said a little voice in Harry's head. _Yours never showed you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning:child abuse apologism


	6. Chapter 6

When Draco Malfoy is lying on the flooded floor of a bathroom, drenched in water and his own blood, Harry doesn't remember that he knows a healing spell. When he thinks back on it later, he remembers Draco screaming with no memory of the sound. If that means Draco didn't scream or did and Harry forgot, he'll never know.

Before the first detention, Harry located Neville in the library. "Hey," he greeted Neville quietly. "Can we talk some place?"

"You ever think about why Snape is. . ."  
Neville finished the sentence with words Harry had never heard him use. "Not really, no. Some people just like being cruel. It's power to them." He was sitting on a stone bench, but Harry was so agitated he had remained standing in the emptied hall.  
"My dad went to school with Snape," Harry started.  
"Really? Bet they didn't like each other."  
"Yeah. Seeing as my dad was an arrogant toerag."  
Harry snorted when Neville's eyebrows shot up and explained about James's school behavior. "He went after Snape the most. That's why Snape has it out for me."  
Neville cursed, looking stricken. "But that's not your fault, it was before you were born."  
"I know but, when I was a kid, I used to think-anyone who'd gotten bullied like that, had whole crowds of people turning on them, been alone, they'd never do it to someone else," he effused, "not if they knew how it felt."  
"Well, most of us don't," Neville replied firmly, "it's just Snape that wants to hex anyone he associates with your dad."  
Harry couldn't agree, and it nagged at something that made him feel dirty. "I hardly blame him. First magic I wanted to learn was how to hex my cousin," he reminisced. "He's a muggle though, so I didn't."  
"Your cousin?" Neville asked blankly. "Was he mean?"  
Harry wrinkled his nose and shifted his weight back and forth, embarrassed the Dursleys' behavior could still leave him angry and hopeless. "My mom's whole family is muggles, and her sister-my aunt-raised me. If you can call it that. They never wanted me around. They hated magic, and they hated me," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the ground.  
"That's awful," Neville told him fiercely. The show of support deflated Harry's guard and years of petty slights bubbled up.  
"I always wanted to get one up on him when I could, I just got punished for everything he didn't," he tried to explain, "They let him punch me, eat all my food, anything. Then I'd mouth off or something just because I knew he was going to hit me anyway. The school we went to didn't stop him or anyone he ran with."  
When he checked, he found Neville offering a sympathetic grimace. "But my aunt's family was worse, see, they never liked anything about me. A lot of times they just watched and enjoyed it- like if the way they cut my hair turned out stupid, or I burned myself on some bleach my aunt made me clean with-"  
He felt pathetic. He wasn't sure he could look anyone in the eye right now if his life depended on it.  
"-or when my cousin made me stand in a toilet-"  
"A toilet?!" Neville exclaimed like this was the most disgustingly shocking piece of information he could have received. Harry's head shot up, distracted from his rant by the humiliation sweeping over him.  
"Don't look at me like that, you have definitely had someone put you in a toilet!"  
"I-I know I have!" he shared in confused horror, "I didn't know YOU had!"  
Harry choked out a laugh. Then laugh was all he could do. He bent over struggling to breathe from laughing at the top of his lungs. The fact that for all their differences, this and the prophecy to kill a being of ultimate evil were things they shared was just fantastic. And Neville was laughing too, and looking at him without a hint of admiration.  
"Not to interrupt, Longbottom, but Potter has an appointment."  
They went quiet and turned with their faces still frozen in open grins. Snape had interrupted them to make sure Harry made it miserably into detention. Harry collected himself, and as he walked by, Neville grabbed his sleeve.  
"If this is 'cause of Malfoy-"  
"Potter!" Snape snapped over him.  
Neville jerked his head at Snape. "You don't have to be him."  
With a surge of affection, Harry smiled down. Neville grinned at him, and then again when he was following Snape and looked back.  
"Having fun, Potter?" Snape drawled.  
"No sir. Never."

Somehow Neville had been lurking in the dungeons instead of attending the quidditch final. "You didn't go see Ginny?"  
"Detention," he answered flatly. "I used a shield charm on some first years a bunch of Slytherins tried to hex, one of them got hit by his friend's spell. Problem was, I did it nonverbally, so Filch wouldn't believe I didn't cast the hex myself. . ."  
Harry warmed at the thought."You could've gone straight up to the tower," he pointed out casually.  
Neville just gave him a withering look. "I wanted to make sure Snape let you out alive. You are alright, aren't you?"  
Harry shrugged. "Snape's been worse. He's just guilting me now."  
"Good, he's barely worth your time. _Quid agis?"_ Neville asked the portrait of the fat lady.  
"You'll see."  
They stepped through the portrait hole into a room full of cheers.  
"We won!"  
Ginny barreled towards them and seized both in a great hug, an arm wrapped around each of their necks. The entire room felt electric.  
"Ginny, that's amazing!" cried Neville, and she released him with a forceful kiss on the cheek. She ran back into the crowd with a whoop of victory.  
Neville leapt into a hug with Harry, shouting a barely audible "congratulations" and for several delirious seconds Harry didn't know if he wanted to flee or be held like this for the rest of his life. Then Neville pulled away and he realized the room had gone quiet.  
Ginny was kissing Katie Bell.

Most people were outside that afternoon, but Neville and some fifth years were using the common room to study.  
Ginny scooted towards Neville on the couch and looked at him affectionately. "Keep a secret?"  
"Sure."  
"I asked Katie Bell on a date!" She whispered in excitement.  
"That's a secret?"  
Ginny flushed. "The date is! She's graduating soon so it's not like we're getting serious, but I've really liked her since she came back and we've actually played at the same time. It's nice to have a chance at spending time together." With one hand she gripped her own loose fingers, wringing them.  
"I mean I liked Dean, and-the other ones were okay," she smiled ruefully. "But with Katie, I liked her even when I wanted to avoid it. I almost stopped talking to her."  
Neville was surprised. "But you're happy you're going on a date with her now?"  
Ginny's face lifted and her eyes shone. "Yes! Yes, I can't believe I didn't just say it. Would've saved me worrying about it."  
Neville smiled at her in a quiet, genuine way. "I'm really happy for you, Ginny."  
She fidgeted, looking very pleased with herself.  
"Have you talked to Harry lately?" he asked politely.  
"Not really. He's been pretty serious since the. . .you know."  
Neville's shoulders drooped. By the day after the quidditch final, Harry had developed a discouraging habit of staring at walls or outright leaving the room whenever he saw Neville. Several times now he'd found the garden snake waiting for him and even introduced it to Professor Sprout, but Harry would be nowhere in sight. "Maybe that's why he doesn't feel like talking. But he talked to me about it, I don't know why he'd avoid me now. I hope he's not mad at me."  
"He talked to to you about Malfoy? Voluntarily?"  
"Not specifically but it was, uh. Related," Neville shrugged, sliding down his seat, "Probably."  
Ginny bumped his arm. "He told us what happened, but Hermione could barely get him to admit he shouldn' t've been following Malfoy into bathrooms alone before he tried to end the conversation. Maybe you could just try again?"  
Neville just looked at her balefully. She regarded him, half pity and half amusement. "Do you like Harry?"  
Neville hesitated. "I'm not in love with him, if that's what you're asking. But yeah, I like him. A lot."  
"Have you ever been in love, then? With someone not Harry?" Ginny was beyond curious. Neville looked into the distance. He replied flatly.  
"Ernie Macmillan. First year."  
Ginny stared at him like they'd never met.  
"I know, I know, he's-"  
"A fathead."  
"I didn't really notice for a couple years." Neville wrinkled his nose to keep talking through the embarrassment. "He used to talk to me in Herbology. He'd start conversations with me, and I wouldn't really have to say anything because he'd just. . .keep talking."  
"About himself!" Ginny laughed uproariously while Neville muttered "well, yeah." Several students looked at them with great insult, but Neville felt good being this open with someone.

Hi Harry,  
Don't spread it around, but I've been relieved of spying and stationed here in Hogsmeade. I'd like to write more, how have you been? The butterbeer and chocolate here are doing me a lot of good.  
Remus Lupin

May had sent the best gift Harry could have hoped for.

It took a lot of wheedling, but through a combination of aggressive concern and threats to sneak out to Hogsmeade, Harry convinced Lupin to show himself at the castle. Plenty of students would have been elated to see their favorite old DADA teacher, but Lupin had insisted they meet in private.  
"I'd rather not run into people. Not all of them would be happy to see me, Harry," Lupin told him as they left the entrance hall.  
Harry could think of at least one person who'd be nasty about it. "That reminds me. Neville said you showed him a spell at the ministry." Harry recounted Snape's scathing analysis of Finite as they walked.  
Lupin looked rather uncomfortable. "Ah, yes, Severus would remember it. I used spell canceling enough in our school years that I stumbled upon the shortcut version by accident."  
Harry's imagination filled in several blanks rapidly as they ducked into the nearest classroom. "He's just mad you didn't use it to help him!"  
Lupin stared at a wall. "I was a loyal friend, I think. Or I gave up arguing in the face of a significant lack of concern," he answered to Harry's stunned conclusion.  
Harry took long enough to grasp this and spared him further guilt by pressing on when they sat down. "When did you show Neville that, anyway? After I left? He reckons I saw it, too."  
"Perhaps. . . " Lupin considered, "You had just experienced a great loss. I'd be more surprised if you had absorbed every detail of your surroundings. I do recall Neville being curious when he and Ginny were giving me a rundown."  
This answer still didn't satisfy Harry, given how clearly he remembered Dolohov using a unique flame spell on Hermione. But he couldn't remember what Dolohov had said, come to think of it, and he still hadn't figured out what Lupin would've needed to cancel anyway, so he moved on. Lupin had brought butterbeer and Harry foisted a pile of pastries from the kitchens on him. "Well, anyway. . .You're done spying on the werewolves, right?"  
"Yes, and good riddance. Can't say I'll miss any of Greyback's followers," Lupin spat, clearly in the mood to vent. "All the suffering we endure, all the baggage of that initial attack, and all they want to do is harm people themselves the minute they've got the power to do so."  
Harry nodded emphatically.  
"A number of the werewolves didn't seem interested in working with Voldemort, but Greyback and his group either killed or drove them out of the country," Lupin heaved with a sigh, "I expect they'll be regrouping some place beyond Voldemort's reach."  
Harry had a drink. "Is it good, being back with the order?"  
"Everyone's feeling rather serious when they don't have drink in them, I think. But it's been peaceful in the village for months. I'd rather catch up with Alastor and Bill than," Lupin waved his bottle around with a dismissive gesture Harry took to mean his past company. "It's good to have company when you're- taking a stand, I suppose." He was starting to deflate. "Speaking up alone is rather demoralizing. How are things on your end?"  
"Uh," Harry grunted, "Ginny and Ron won the quidditch cup."  
"You mean your team won?"  
Harry swallowed a sip of butterbeer, feeling the shame in his throat. "Not my team, no. I was in detention."  
"I heard about that, actually," Lupin informed him severely. His disappointment felt several times worse than Snape's continuous jibes.  
"It was a bad move and I deserve the detention, every one of them," Harry said quickly.  
"You're fortunate Severus was there."  
This was blatantly salt in the wound, but since Harry wasn't the literal wounded party he took it in stride. "I know."  
The mood ruined, they went quiet until Harry couldn't take it anymore. He soundlessly tapped the palm of his hand on a desk. "Lupin, have you ever been scared of being with someone?"  
Lupin's expression soured. "Most people get a bit scared of asking someone on a date, Harry," he replied with forced amusement.  
Harry shook his head quickly. "It's not that, it's different this time. I dated a girl last year, I was really into her and it did feel a lot like this but I wasn't scared out of my mind. Now I'm, I think I'm in love with someone I've been friends with, and there's loads of reasons it could be but none of them feel like they explain it." If his body wasn't actually jittering, something under his skin was.  
"What exactly do you think you're afraid of, then?" Lupin asked sternly.  
"Every time we see each other now, it feels like. . .like there's nothing under my feet, or like the world is gonna end, or I'm in danger," Harry's eyes stung, "and it didn't feel like this before. I don't know anything that would make me feel like this just because I like someone."  
When Lupin didn't respond, Harry got desperate. "My parents-how did they handle being together in the Order? They must have been scared."  
"Your parents were very brave to be together on the front line, yes," he finally responded, wistfully. "We lost good people, without much peace in between. But. . .sometimes that made it even more important," he whispered, "to appreciate what we had."  
"Even if. . . any of you could die?" Harry rasped, forming words slowly until he could ensure his voice wouldn't crack, "Even if, maybe you weren't lucky enough for the people you cared about to make it?"  
Lupin was finding it very painful to look at him now. "We've lost a lot of people, Harry."  
Harry had to get whatever this was out of his system. "Lupin, I told you about Neville, I saw him-like I saw Cedric, and Sirius, and my parents."  
"Yes, you've seen too many people get hurt for someone your age." To his embarrassment Lupin put a hand on his arm. A powerful need kept him going but also made the whole thing worse, somehow. Experiencing this much emotion in front of someone just felt like raw agony, as if his body held some void that could swallow him whole and leave nothing behind.  
"Because of me, all my friends have gotten hurt by being with me, I hurt people."  
"You are not at fault for the actions of everyone who has acted against you. These are circumstances out of your control. So long as you don't curse someone who doesn't need it again," Lupin finished firmly. He emptied his bottle. "I know what you mean better than I'd like to, Harry. That doesn't mean you stop living."

The next time he ran into Neville, he made himself return a greeting. The fear was still there, but that didn't excuse him from making an effort.  
"Are you mad at me?" Neville asked almost immediately  
"No-"  
"Okay. Then can we sit and talk? Privately?"  
Neville led him to the greenhouse. Harry apologized on the way.  
"I was avoiding you, it wasn't, well," he tried, "I didn't have a good reason."  
"Were you feeling okay?"  
Harry cringed. "No. But I still wanted to talk to you." He didn't have to tell Neville, but they could still be friends. . .  
They found a shaded spot against the wall and sat opposite each other. "It's about the stuff I told you my family did," Neville started uncertainly, "I know it was bad. That was why I told you about it, I wanted you to understand.  
"You asked me how I hadn't talked to my family about-what they did to me. I'm sorry I didn't really listen. But to be honest, I don't remember a lot of the big stuff. I remember almost drowning and the fear, but the details are all. . .I only know exactly what happened because my Great Aunt laughed about it at parties," Neville admitted.  
Harry grimaced in sympathy, but Neville flinched from his gaze and stared between his knees. "That doesn't make it right, but I don't know if I need to talk about it or if I could. Most of what I remember about that whole time is how I felt, not what actually happened.  
"And Gran's not like that now, really, I wrote to them-Professor Sprout wants to do research starting next year and she wants me to help, they were all happy for me. Gran said she wanted me to be happy even if maybe I-" Neville took a deep breath and pushed forward, "maybe I don't want to do magic much."  
Harry thought hard, and didn't say anything until he was sure Neville had finished. He stayed as neutral as he could. "If you don't need to talk to them, why did you tell me?"  
Neville spared considerable effort to look him in the eye. "I wanted you to understand.  
"And there was one more thing I wanted to tell you."  
Harry waited. He was uncertain how he was going to feel about what came next, given how their last conversations this honest had gone.  
"I like you. As more than a friend."  
Harry lost control of his face.  
"I like being your friend"(here, whatever he saw on Harry's face seemed to disappoint him) "and I know you don't feel the same way-"  
Harry had spent the past year hanging out with Neville over petty grudges and a crush he was never going to disclose. Seeing Neville get down on himself again because Harry had been a coward was the last straw. He steadied Neville's face with one hand and pressed their lips together.  
It was a small kiss, but once there Harry found he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to pull back and find out what Neville thought of him for hiding his feelings then pushing them, or think about his responsibilities, or go back to being one body instead of two.  
Then a hand was on his neck, inviting him, and all he had to think about was what they were trying to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wKOEJs602uk  
> I wrote this for myself and I'm really glad I finished something like this for the first time. It was a learning experience and I'm glad if anyone else finds it satisfying.


End file.
